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Leahann Fraser Poem
Flipping through each face, the ghost of my memories and others that came along
The very existence of them all, either torn and worn or fairly pure in my life
Each unhaunted and hidden away from the stolen world of color and beauty
Before there were wars and battles in our heads and hearts, crashing them with lovers and enemies
My world is simply gone, it’s light and variety was drained from my very being and left me cold and unwanted from any who neared
The painting of myself that I was, with each charming hue and tone that drawed people in and watched the coloration of us
We’re all just paintings carved and bonded to this page, and some have the strength to pull out and be their own walking mural
And that strength of mine was killed off, my illustration sliced at and soon vanished into light dust
Leaving me with my snapshots of the world that I left, the warm home I bathed in, and the one I now suffered in
Copyright © Leahann Fraser | Year Posted 2016
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Details |
Leahann Fraser Poem
Pulled.
She was pulled by the strings that twisted around each other when things went south.
Mangled to the rosy wires and dark abyss that carved her outline.
With the distorted puppet master, who cackled behind the drawn curtain and twirled his gnarled fingers to have her dance for him and others.
Another whirl, another twist, hands on hips, lips plumped out, dress scooted up.
Just liked he showed. Just like he taught.
The force he gave along to her.
Her wrists bared scars of the abuse of movement, the hooks clung to her head and arms.
She no longer pushed for freedom, for the caked blood on her tattered frame was a reminder.
This wasn’t her body anymore, she didn’t remember it.
She was labeled.
A quick pirouette, showing of her silhouette legs.
A departed flower hung in her weary breast pocket that use to be as lovely as she, full of a beating life and a holy glow above it all, a delicate life dancing with her rich locks.
But the petals had fallen off so long ago, each wrinkled and withered into dust, blown with her tears.
A gift, it was all she knew from it, a gift from a hidden lover she thought she knew.
Who she thought would bring her ecstasy, a satisfying leisure.
But she never knew that when he gave her that rose, that he was the thorns on it that sheared in her heart.
Copyright © Leahann Fraser | Year Posted 2016
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